


Suicidal, Self-Hating Plan Number Six

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues, Cussing, Dean Has Anger Issues, Dean Winchester Has PTSD, Discussion of canon suicide attempt, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Killing Joke esque ending, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, Suicidal Tendencies, Trust Issues, anger issues, frank discussion of PTSD, past and present friendship failings mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 15:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After the last zombie Chuck cracked open from the earth is slain, and a battered and bruised Team Free Will make their way back to the bunker, Castiel and Dean have a fight that’s been a long time coming.(Written before S15 began airing).
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Suicidal, Self-Hating Plan Number Six

**Author's Note:**

> Editing in to preface this fic by noting that I wrote it before season 15 aired. If I knew how the conflict was going to continue to play out in 15.01-15.09, this fic would be very different.

The door to the bunker groans open, and Sam, Dean, and Cas come shuffling through, bruised, battered, covered in blood, and utterly silent.

Sam’s hands are shaking from the effort of holding onto the stake he’d used to bludgeon his way through two dozen zombies, and Dean’s hands are smeared with blood all the way up to the elbow. There’s cuts and bruises peppering all three men, Cas far too drained from the battle to heal anyone—including himself. Not only are they all exhausted physically, but emotionally as well, in the aftermath of their creator’s harshest betrayal, and the loss of a son they were all still holding onto the possibility of saving. 

Dean’s jaw feels wired shut he’s clenching it so hard to keep the anger in—he doesn’t even know at what anymore because it’s cast on everything and everyone… except maybe Sam. Sam who he’s angry _for_ instead—the damn look on his brother’s face too familiar. It’s emotional shut down—Sam withdrawing when he feels boxed in. It’s as second nature now in the face of trauma as Dean’s anger… just two different forms of PTSD that suck to deal with and also, unfortunately, don’t mix well.

Sam sighs suddenly, turns to both men in a slow shuffle. “I’m uh, gonna go shower,” He says, eyes glassy and tired. “Then just… um… we can deal with the apocalypse tomorrow.”

On another day, it might be funny. But nobody laughs. Neither Dean nor Cas says anything in reply, just watching as Sam walks toward the shower room, clutching at his bandaged arm.

Dean knows he smells just as rank as Sam, and he feels exhausted bone deep. But his brain is on fire with frantic and seething thoughts, and there’s no way he’ll be able to sleep. And besides, looking at Cas… Dean knows neither of them are going anywhere for at least half an hour. Because they both know—when their eyes catch sharply…. 

They’re about to have a fight.

Sam might have sensed it as well—might be why he shuffled off pretty quickly. After an emotionally draining day, Sam had no interest in seeing Dean and Cas scream at each other. Especially not when just the slam of a door can make Sam flinch these days. 

Dean avoids Cas’ eye long enough to limp over to the bar cart, bloodstained hands carelessly smearing the glass of the whiskey decanter. Normally, Dean _would_ care—would hate to see the contamination of blood on anything in the war room. But right now he’s simply too tired and angry to give a damn. 

It’s only when he’s poured himself and Cas both a glass, set Cas’ on the table and gone to sit at the opposite end, that he looks up at the other man. The rage he’s felt toward his best friend since that uttering of “You’re dead to me”… maybe even before… It hangs in the air between them palpably. 

Dean's blood is practically boiling in his skull, and the voice inside him that regrets the words he lashed out at Cas to hurt, is driven back by that rage. Even as he takes in the angel’s appearance and wants to bandage both him and Sam up and send them off to rest, Dean also wants to strangle Cas. The dual nature of the anger Dean can’t bury anymore and the constant, frantic concern he feels for the two men closest to him in the world… It’s just another terrible combination.

And Cas… Dean sees his jaw is clenched just as hard as Dean’s. He already snapped at Dean twice in the car. Cas doesn’t have the power to smite anyone right now, but his eyes are angry enough for it—make Dean’s blood thrum with preparation for violence, as he knows that look well from the two times Castiel has beaten him into the pavement.

_Fuck you, Cas,_ Dean thinks uncharitably (and he knows it’s uncharitable too, and he wishes he could do something about it but he can’t). If Cas wants to try and beat Dean again, he can sure as fuck try. But they’re just 1-to-2 on beat downs and Dean thinks he can make it an even 2-to-2 if that’s what Cas wants, Mark of Cain or not. 

Cas seems to decide that fighting physically isn’t worth it though, and he grasps the glass Dean poured for him and wanders over to sit across from Dean at the map table. 

Nothing but the quiet sound of both men taking sips of whiskey breaks the silence for several minutes. But violence is in the air around them—charged by a profound bond that makes them fucking _hurt_ each other like _shit_ sometimes. And yet they never learn, and they both know it. Neither of them seem to be able to stop. 

They’re going to fight—fight like they did during that case with Ishim—maybe worse. And it probably won’t even solve anything. But it has to happen anyway. It’s inevitable. 

Dean finally drains the very last of his tumbler's contents then sets it down.

Cas swirls the last sip of his glass around, staring at the amber liquid before saying, “Why don’t you start?”

“No, Cas… I think I’d rather let you go first and then I can tell you all the reasons you’re wrong.” It’s harshly stated and unfair, and Dean knows it. But he’s had a smart mouth for a long time—since the silence of a childhood trauma took his voice away, and gaining it back required convincing himself of confidence he doesn’t actually feel most of the time. Dean’s words are a coping mechanism and weapon and a shield and a facade. 

Cas’ eye twitches the way it does sometimes when he’s trying to bite back a sarcastic reply. “_Fine_,” Is all he says though, leaning forward in his chair suddenly and setting his hands on the table. He looks Dean straight in the eye and Dean stares straight back. They challenge each other—fierce and angry.

“You went behind my back,” Cas spits—seethes. "Not once, but _twice_ in the last few months! Both times with that _stupid_, _idiotic_ box you constructed, which is nothing more than 'Dean's self-hating, suicidal plan number six’!”

A cruel chuckle bubbles up from Dean's throat, and he shakes his head as all the replies he wants to shout back rush through his head. He bites his tongue though, letting Cas continue his tirade.

“You didn’t tell me or even your own brother what you were up to. You planned to leave us both behind without so much as a goodbye, and likely would have if Sam and Mary had not become suspicious. We talked you out of it, and then with Jack just yesterday, you went behind my back again! You and Sam made a decision about Jack without me! Sam and I begged and fought for you not to get in that box just a few months ago, and then you turned around and tricked Jack right into it without even so much as a phone call to get my input! You tricked him and lied to him! You also blamed me for your mother’s death. You said I was _dead_ to you. I know you didn’t mean it… or at least I—I think and I hope so. What you said is nothing more than a symptom of the _ridiculous_, _irrational_ rage that you can’t control that overtook you at some point when my back was turned. I don’t know when it happened or why, but you’re angry—almost as angry as you were when you had The Mark. And you can’t control it, and it’s become a problem for all of us… most of all, yourself. You’re angry and you hate everyone at the drop of a hat, suddenly and without warning. And that… that profound self-loathing you carry around like a stone around your neck… it’s drowning you and I’m sick of dragging you back, since the first time you tried to say “yes” to Michael almost 10 years ago. Which, by the way, you _also_ did behind my back and Sam’s! I’m sick of your erratic, irrational bouts of rage. I’m sick of you calling me your brother then leaving me out of decisions. I’m sick most of all of your blind double-standards… where everyone except you is supposed to be safe!” Cas’ voice chokes a bit as he continues with one last point. "You said “yes” to Michael the second time in a moment of panic for Jack and Sam… and I understand. I understand _why_ you did it and I agree you had to. But I _begged_ you not to and it didn’t mean anything, and even though I know I shouldn’t be angry about that, it still _hurts_. And I just wish you’d see that. I wish you’d see that Sam and I _CARE_ about you and that decisions that you make unilaterally… even when you actually have a right to make them because they are about you and your body… they _affect_ us! They affect _me!_ I wish, just once in a while, that you would remember that before trying to fall on a sword for us. Both with Michael and with your stupid box!”

Cas seems to be finished after that—at least for the moment. He downs that last swig of his whiskey and then sets the tumbler down on the table. Then he folds his hands together and waits for Dean expectantly, giving him that pissy grumpy cat look he’s so good at.

Dean lets them both sit in the silence for a long time. Finally, he says, “I won’t deny a lot of that, Cas,” But his voice is ominously calm. "You raise some good points... But you also might be the biggest, most flabbergastingly _hypocritical_ person I have _ever_ known... including my dad who sure did enjoy the ‘do as I say not as I do’ mentality. Making decisions behind your back? Running off to fall on a sword? Do you even _hear_ yourself?!” Dean snaps. For a moment, a mirthless laugh paints a smirk cruelly across his features. “Since we _met _you've gone behind my back to make decisions unilaterally that affect all of us. You lied to me and Sam and Bobby about the souls. You abandoned me in Purgatory twice—running off _to fall on a sword._ You ran off with the angel tablet after escaping Naomi’s mind control and beating me half to death in that crypt. You and Sam lied to me about the Book of the Damned. You said “yes” to Lucifer without giving Sam or me any warning or any say so. You came to my room with fake apologies and then stole The Colt so you could kill Kelly Kline… Then when you decided not to, you left Sam and I out of the loop again even though we would have been _happy_ to help you if you had just explained, and it got you killed! And I’ve forgiven it _ALL_, okay? … I don’t hold it over your damn head. But don’t talk to me about keeping decisions away from the people I care about! You have no right to talk about it!” 

Dean is shouting at the end, and Cas shouts back. 

“Throw all that shit in my face if you want to, Dean. Fine! I’ve made mistakes and I’ll own them! But this is about here and now! You kept things from me and you and Sam lied to Jack! You tried to put him in a box!”

“Yeah, and then after you yelled at us about that, you went to enquire about getting Jack in The Cage!” Dean emphasizes. “The _CAGE_, Cas! But fine! You wanna talk about here and now?” Dean shouts, “Then let's talk about your latest betrayals!” Dean jabs a finger in Cas’ direction. “You lied to Sam and me about Jack! You withheld information about his soul, and Mom _died_!” His voice chokes, but he bites it back with rage.

“And that wasn’t my fault!” Cas shoots back fiercely.

“I know it wasn't!” Dean roars back. “But you _KNEW_, and you _KEPT_ it away from me, just like you have so many other _GODDAMN_ things! It’s just the latest secret in a long line of things you _keep_ from me, because you’re so _FUCKING_ desperate to do everything on your own without your family! Are you even capable of being honest? Do you even know how NOT to hide problems? Because over the years I’ve started to doubt that you even know what honesty means, _CASTIEL!"_

“So I’m hypocritical when I keep things from you, but you are not? Is that it, Dean?” Cas demands.

Dean nods, nostrils flaring. “Yeah, I've lied and I’ve hid and I’ve kept secrets! But nobody in my goddamn life, including myself, has _EVER_ done it so thoroughly and consistently as you! I at least have shown that I am capable of telling the truth. But you? I’m not so sure! It’s like you’re _desperate_ to do everything on your own!"

“As if you don’t have the same problem!” 

“I’ll admit I do, but you’re worse!” Dean insists. "Every single damn year, Cas! Every goddamn year of our friendship there’s been a new set of lies, and I can’t ignore it anymore! I wanna be able to trust you because you’re my best fucking friend, and I can’t! I’m always waiting for you to run off or lie and leave me to pick up the pieces!"

“Well maybe that’s your fault!” Castiel snaps. 

For the first time, Dean feels taken aback, and his throat closes up a bit. “Don’t you fuckin’ say that…” He warns.

“Don’t say what, Dean?” Cas demands, continuing even as he knows he should stop. “That half the secrets I’ve kept… half the time I have left... has been to keep you safe and protected?”

“I _NEVER_ asked you to do that!” Dean interrupts fiercely. 

“That the other half,” Cas continues, “Are because I’ve made so many mistakes and sinned against you so many times… I just want to be able to make it right on my own? That I _constantly_ doubt that I even belong here and that you even want me around?”

Dean’s eyes burn and he hisses through his teeth. “Don’t you put that self-conscious shit you carry around on me!” He says. “Because I don’t need it! All the goddamn guilt I carry around for things that aren’t my fault… I’m not gonna let you add that to the pile! Fuck you! Every time you have _EVER_ needed me… if I was in the loop… if you let me in… even if I was mad at you I was there!”

“Yeah!” Cas snarks “Except for the time when I was human—at my weakest—and you kicked me out of the bunker!”

“I didn’t have a fucking choice!” Dean hurls back. “And out of a ten year friendship, that’s the only time I have _ever_ left you, and I’m sorry I had to, but I still checked up on you, didn’t I?”

Cas’ brain races for more options but he doesn’t think of another thing to throw in Dean’s face before Dean continues, eyes suddenly blurred with tears. "You act like you come every time I call, but how often have you ignored my phone calls, huh? How many times have you lied through your teeth or kept secrets? How often have you abandoned _me_, Cas? The large majority of the time, I have been there for you if you let me in. Hell—even a few times when you wouldn’t let me in the loop, I came anyway and I _forced_ myself into your life and your problems! And yet you’re the one who gets to doubt being wanted around? Despite all the times you _never_ stay... without anyone telling you to go? Despite all the times I have called you family—told you you were my brother—forgiven you for things that…” Dean can’t finish the thought, but it’s understood between them that he was about to say breaking Sam’s wall. "Despite all the times you have literally run away from me—abandoned me—you fixate on the one time I left you and you let your stupid head tell you I don’t care about you! Would you just smell the shit you’re shoveling? I’m not unsympathetic to abandonment issues, Cas… I think you know that. But I have _TOLD_ you! I have told you _enough_ that you are my brother and my best friend, and you’ve fuckin’ ripped me apart enough times through death and betrayal that you ought to goddamn know how important you are to me! So don’t give me that self-conscious shit! That’s your angel buddies talking. It’s the lies and the manipulations they’ve whispered in your ears your whole life that you _choose_ to believe! And I’m as sick of it as you are of me being mad all the time, because all it does is fuck us up!"

Cas folds his arms over his chest. His impulse is to fight back, but he stifles the first things that come to mind, because there wasn’t just anger in Dean’s speech… there was affirmation too, of their bond, of Cas’ importance to Dean, despite what Dean said after Mary, and Cas has to take a moment to sort through. “Alright,” Cas says finally, a bit calmer. “I accept that keeping secrets is a problem for me. And I will try to work through it,” He says shakily. "But can _YOU_ acknowledge that _YOUR_ secrets this year have been a problem as well? That your anger _HAS_ to be dealt with?”

Dean’s jaw goes tight, like he’s about to submit himself to a stubborn vow of silence—refuse to admit that there’s a problem. But then he speaks. “I’m willing to do that, Cas.”

And for a moment, Cas thinks the fight might be over.

“…So long as you start being honest right the fuck now.”

The hairs on the back of Cas’ neck stand on end as he hears the calm, defeated manner in which Dean utters the words. Cas looks away. He hears Dean's breath catch in his throat. 

Dean swallows and feels his eyes burning again. But there’s nothing for it. So he just says, quietly, “I want you to look me in the eye… and admit to me that you made a deal."

Cas pulls his hands away from the table, Adam’s apple bobbing, but his countenance remains reserved. 

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

He wants to say it. Thinks he might be able to convince Dean to believe it. But with the conversation they’ve just had...

Dean looks at him. Really looks at him. “When Jack got sick… You went to heaven. And you came back with Jack. But something didn’t sit right with me about it. It was something about the way you... and the… the guilty look on the kid’s face. You did something, and don’t even try to deny it. Just once Cas… Come clean instead of being found out. Just… be _honest_ with me. What. Did. You. Do?”

Cas looks away from the table, and to the side. His jaw works like he’s biting back a thousand lies. “The Empty came for Jack when he was in heaven,” Cas starts eventually, with a sigh. "Since he is part angel, it wanted him. But it also wanted me. So… I made a deal with it. I exchanged my life for Jack’s.”

Cas doesn’t look at Dean, but the silence tells him Dean is trying to hold it together. When Dean does speak, his voice is demanding and harsh—hurt. “Then why are you still here?”

Cas swallows. “It said… it said that it wouldn’t take me now. It would wait until I… until I became _happy_. Then when I felt joy… It would come for me.” Cas doesn’t look at Dean. Doesn’t want to see him become angry. Doesn’t want to watch when Dean gets up and throws something across the room—screams at him.

That isn’t what happens at all.

It starts with tremors in Dean’s fingers, reaches up through to his arms, and then shortly Dean's whole body is shaking. Cas’ best friend can’t breathe and his eyes sting and he’s gasping in breaths. 

Cas only looks at the first sob. “Dean?” Cas rises out of his chair in alarm, but then angry Dean is back, and when Cas comes toward him, Dean shoves out, pushing Cas away harshly. 

“Don’t fucking _touch_ me!” Dean roars. He seems to regret it immediately, curling in on himself with remorse in his eyes. “J-just…” He gasps, then grabs at his own hair, practically tearing it out at the root. “Just… g-give me a minute…!”

It’s painful to watch and not be able to do anything. Dean closes his eyes and curls over his lap with his hands still gripping at his hair, gasping and trembling. It’s a practiced move… something Dean clearly knows how to do because he’s been dealing with it for a while. 

Cas stares, helpless. 

Finally, after several minutes of erratic, wheezing breaths, Dean gets himself back to a reasonable tempo and breathes easier again. “You… you stupid… son of a bitch…” Dean gasps, and his eyes blur with tears because he _can’t_. He points a still trembly hand at Cas, wagging his finger at him. “You really are a hypocritical son of a bitch. You made a deal with the Empty... but when _I _tried to jump in a box a few weeks later, you called me suicidal while hiding your stupid deal!” Dean stands up and shoves a finger in Cas' face where he’s still standing close. "So I’m a pot? You’re the fucking kettle!”

Dean steps back a second later and his voice loses its volume a bit—probably thinking of Sam who hopefully hasn’t heard them (it’s really just wishful thinking). Dean calms, and continues quieter. “So fine. I’m an angry, irrational, son of a bitch,” Dean hisses through clenched teeth. “I can’t control my fucking anger and I lash out at people and I hurt them and it sucks, and I fucking _HATE_ myself for it.” He thinks he’s gonna fucking cry again but he can’t stop it just like he can’t stop the rage he feels on a daily basis—the panic and lack of control over _everything_—including himself. “But you wanna know when that started happening? Two years ago, after you fucking died on me and we lost mom.”

Cas has the audacity to look surprised—like Dean hasn’t told him enough that he considers him family and his brother—like they haven’t fought over each other’s safety enough to establish that they care deeply for each other—that it’s a two-way street.

Dean feels his lips trembling, but he bites it back enough to choke out, “Did Sam ever tell you? Did you know I tried to kill myself, Cas?” 

Cas’ face loses color and he looks at Dean with a mixture of shock and rage. He wants to embrace Dean, but also wants to beat him half to death like he did ten years ago when Dean ran off to say “yes”. He can’t and won’t do either, so instead he stands stock still.

“I lost you n’I lost mom, and I got angry and I lashed out and I acted like a raging asshole to Jack and Sam kept pushing me and I was an ass to him too a couple times, and I fucking pumped myself full of drugs on a case because I wanted to die, and I thought Billie would give me that. But she wouldn’t, and I had to go back to living without you and Mom. And it was getting you back that pulled me out of it. So when you talk about me not considering what my suicidal plans to do you and Sam… try to remember that I don’t wanna do this shit without you either, okay? _Please_ remember that you’re a hypocritical son of a bitch, just like me. Cut from the same cloth, the same brand of asshole.” Dean wipes his face and eyes, then lets out a single bark of a laugh. “You… you even wanted to put Jack in a goddamn box yourself. Right after you blew up at me and Sam, you went to go find out if you could put Jack in _The_ _Cage_, Cas!”

“Only if there was no other option, and only with Jack’s consent. I wasn’t going to trick him,” Cas objects quietly. “And I’m still angry about the decision you and Sam made to trick Jack,” He adds. “But I suppose that is a conversation that will have to wait until I can speak to you and Sam both."

Dean shrugs. “No… You were right. Jack could still… you showed he could still be reasoned with. Sam and I moved too quickly when we heard about the deaths he’d caused.We couldn’t leave things as they were… we had to act because Jack was killing. But I… I was mad at Jack and it clouded my judgement. And Sam was scared of Jack and it clouded his. Hell—Sam and I should’ve known the box meant to contain Michael wouldn’t hold the guy who easily ganked him.” Dean gets tired of standing, and he sits down again. "And I’m sorry we went behind your back,” Dean adds, "But don’t act like you’ve never done the same shit. Because believe me when I say you’re a fucking _master_ at it."

Cas mulls it over for a moment, while Dean waits expectantly. Eventually, Cas nods. He sits in the chair right next to Dean’s, close enough that they’re bumping shoulders. “That’s fair,” Cas murmurs. “And I am sorry that I went behind your back too… with the deal with the Empty. And… I am sorry that I kept the state of Jack’s soul from you and Sam.” Cas swallows. “Dean… I really can’t tell you enough. If I could go back, I would tell you, but I can’t, and all I can do is apologize… try to make amends somehow."

Dean shakes his head. “It wasn’t your fault,” He replies, voice trembly. “What happened to Mom… I’m an asshole for making you think it at all... I’m pissed that you kept what happened to Jack from me… but I was out of line with what I said about you being dead to me. It isn’t true. I just… I was so mad, and I wanted you to _hurt_. It was fucked up, and I’m really sorry, Cas.”

“It’s okay,” Cas sighs out after a moment. He thinks maybe he even believes it, after Dean’s whole tirade. "But keep in mind… I don’t like it when you lie to me either, Dean.” 

“I know,” Dean placates. “Pot, kettle. Yes. So _REMEMBER_: Just like when I lie to you, when you lie to me, it _hurts_ me. But it’s like hiding things under the guise of protecting Sam and me is practically your _thing_. Sam and I can usually be honest with each other… But you… it’s like you’re _always_ hiding something or going off on your own, and I _can’t_ Cas… Not anymore. I could stand it at one point. I could just… put it in the past and pretend it never happened and move on. But… I can’t anymore.” Dean sighs, then he rubs his forehead.

Cas looks over at his best friend, feels a pang of concern when Dean says very quietly, "I’m not right in the head anymore, man.”

Cas swallows. He’s reminded of his conversation with Jack not long ago, about mortals dying… how people like him and Jack would have to move on, how they’d have to live with the knowledge that what was important was that they got to know incredible humans like Sam and Dean at all. He’s seen for some time now, how Dean has become more volatile, and Sam has become more withdrawn and jumpy, but the same disturbed patterns assault the brains of both men. They have nightmares, they look tired so much, and there’s… a quiet about them both that didn’t used to be there, despite the brothers growing ever closer. Cas wonders to himself if the sickness inside his two friends is part of the reason he himself does not stay long in the bunker with Sam and Dean before departing. He… he feels guilty and sorrowful sometimes when he notices… sees the sickness inside them. He’s healed their bodies for a good chunk of their adult lives, leaving them physically capable well beyond most hunters of their ages. But the brain is a tricky thing, he can’t heal the emotional trauma they suffer, and Sam and Dean have been through so very much trauma. Sam spent a century in The Cage and even Castiel himself taking on the bulk of his trauma… he is still not the same man. Dean’s mind built it’s own defenses—it’s own wall. No one did anything to soothe the decades of tortures inflicted upon him at Alistair’s hands. And so many horrors have happened to them since. A sickness burns through Sam and Dean that can’t be mended by an angel’s healing touch. Perhaps, in his helplessness, Cas questions himself, he just can’t bring himself to be there with them constantly... feel so useless against their suffering.

“It’s gotten worse in recent years,” Dean continues quietly, “For both me and Sam. We… we try not to think about it, and a lot of times we don’t have time because it’s… we’re always in the war zone. But Sam’s fucked up in the head and I’m fucked up in the head… We can’t…_ I_ can’t do that dance with you with the lies and the secrets anymore for my own sanity… so please. Can we at least _try_ keeping the secrets to a minimum?” 

Cas looks at him for a moment, eyes still angry, but it’s being overtaken by sympathy. His throat feels tight with sorrow for his friends. “I will try if you will try, Dean."

Dean nods—a nonverbal expression of agreement, and they sit for a while, both drained and even more exhausted than before. 

“Dean…” Castiel says eventually, "How long have you been having panic attacks?” 

Dean closes his eyes. “As long as I’ve been having anger issues.”

“So as long as you’ve been alive, then?” Castiel says dryly.

“Shut up, asshat,” Dean grouses, nudging his best friend in the shoulder. “Sam is the one who used to have anger issues… _No_. It’s… since… since you died and Mom got lost.”

Cas’ throat feels tight again. He hadn’t known… no one had told him what Dean had… He presses his shoulder back a little more into Dean’s. It’s more gentle than the friendly shove Dean just gave him. More comfort than banter.

“Sam doesn’t know,” Dean admits. “Or at least I haven’t told him. He probably knows anyway. It’s just... he has his own shit even though he won’t talk about it to anybody, not even me, and it just… I just go away by myself. There’s a spot out in the woods where it’s nice and quiet and I go there,” Dean admits. 

“That means you’re keeping a secret,” Cas points out. 

Dean nods. “I know."

“And that… that isn’t sustainable,” Cas adds. “What you’re doing. You can’t do that forever."

Dean scoffs, a sad smile coming to his lips, and it reminds Cas that he said the same thing: ’That’s not sustainable’ when Dean told him how he couldn’t sleep with Michael pounding away at his brain. It isn’t sustainable, but what can they do?

“Nothing about the way any of us… Me, you, or Sam—lives… is sustainable,” Dean says, echoing Cas’ thoughts. “But I honestly don’t think I have a choice, Cas. Not with what we have to deal with right now. Not with the shit that’s been coming at us without a break for so long.”

Castiel looks down at his hands, and he wants to do something. He wishes he had the power to take away what Dean’s dealing with, but he doesn’t. Before he has too long to suffer through his feelings of worthlessness, Dean laughs beside him. Cas looks at him in question.

"I just want us all to get to be happy…” Dean explains. “But you made a stupid deal... So now… after we some-fuckin’-how stop Chuck, get back Jack and his soul… we have to fucking _kill_ the Empty. Because of…” Dean chuckles again. “Because of 'Castiel's Suicidal, Self-Hating Plan number six'."

Right in front of him, Dean starts laughing. Laughing so hard that tears are coming to his eyes. Cas watches Dean giggle for a while, a bit disturbed by his friend’s laughter. But then he finds he’s smiling himself—a stupid, gummy smile.

Dean continues to laugh and then Cas' deep voice rumbles out a chuckle too. 

“We’re so fucked up,” Dean says, crying laughing, “Just… you know… fuck our lives, man… idiots… and our fucking asshole hypocrisy."

Cas chuckles with him. “It can be a code phrase from now on,” He adds. “When one of us is doing something hypocritically sacrificial, or keeping secrets. Just say, 'Self-hating plan number seven’ and we’ll start counting them up. We’ll add Sam into the mix too."

Dean thinks this is even funnier, and he leans into Cas’ space for support, unable to hold himself up anymore under the laughter and the exhaustion he’s feeling.

They both giggle for a while like a couple of psychopaths. It even helps a little.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this conflict between Dean and Cas is very contentious at the moment, so this one might make some people angry, wanting to point out "you left out X" or "you didn't think about Y". It was important to me to let both the characters be flawed and both the characters have legitimate complaints, because that's how I see things in this conflict despite what popular opinion seems to be at the moment. Undoubtedly, there are dozens of perspectives (if not more) on dozens of incidents one could consider, so I am bound to leave out something another reader thinks is vitally important to have in any sort of conflict resolution. But the fan dialogue about this fight I have found to be very biased as of late (typically considering only Cas' perspective while ignoring Dean's or vice-versa), and writing this, I was able to clash those two biased dialogues together through the mouths of our characters and evaluate for myself what I thought was legitimate, what was mainly insecurity, what needed to be talked about and understood. I wouldn't look at this fight and say Cas and Dean would never fight after this--undoubtedly there'd be a lot left for them to hash out and some of the things they said may not have been fair or wholly accurate and they may gotten away with it anyway. But the key resolution is that they do still care about each other, have some similar flaws, and want to mend the parts of their friendship that need mending. Regardless, this was a fun exercise for me and I found it a bit therapeutic. Other people may or may not feel the same, but I figured I'd share. =)


End file.
